So I wouldn’t let it happen. We’d keep playing, and she’d see how ridiculous it was to want a happy ending. There weren’t happy endings. Not really. There were only those who got that and the fools who didn’t. Celia and I would not be the fools.
Chapter Eighteen
After
We’re quiet as we drive to the restaurant for my mother’s birthday. Alayna’s nervous—I’m sure that’s the reason for her silence. Mothers in general are intimidating, I hear. My mother beats them all.
I’m nervous as well, for more than one reason. First, I’m worried about subjecting Alayna to this evening with Sophia. It’s partly why I hadn’t told her about tonight. Alayna was supposed to be working, so I used that as an excuse not to bring it up. Then her plans were canceled, and I had to make a decision. She thinks she wormed her way into an invite, but, honestly, I wanted her with me. I always want her with me.
Now I’m left with a bigger problem. Celia. I’m certain she’ll be there. Her family has joined us for my mother’s birthday dinners for as long as I can remember, so the scenario isn’t unlikely. And that brings up so many potential issues. Alayna, for one, may not be happy if Celia is present. I’ve promised her I won’t spend time with Celia without her. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this evening would break that promise until I realized Alayna would be with me.
I should tell her now. But I can’t bring myself to say it because I’m hoping to God that it isn’t an issue, that Celia doesn’t come tonight. Not because Alayna will be upset, but because I don’t want to see Celia. At all.
Even the thought of it causes sweat to bead across my brow.
As the limo pulls up to the curb, I wipe my forehead and laugh inwardly at myself. I’m a man who’s generally self-assured and confident, and now, at the thought of my petite, demure childhood friend, I’m frightened. It’s my own fault. I should have contacted her before now. It’s been three days since I completely left the experiment, and I’ve yet to tell Celia. I’ve avoided it, not knowing what to say. All my focus has been on Alayna, making her part of my world, inviting her to live with me—it feels like a lifetime since Celia drove me to the airport in the Hamptons and I told her I was done. I’m not that man anymore. I’m completely new.
Stepping out of the car, I casually glance around for sight of her before reaching back to help Alayna out. Celia’s nowhere to be seen, and it shouldn’t matter if she was. She likely won’t be surprised to see us. She knows I haven’t broken things off since she showed up at my penthouse while Alayna was there. The game was supposed to have ended before that. But she can only guess what the circumstances are to have made me change the plans. I’m sure she suspects something’s different—I’ve never had a woman at my house before. Not one I was in a relationship with. Not even one I was pretending to have a relationship with. It’s a change in my pattern that Celia will not have missed.
Yes, there’s a lot to be said to Celia, a lot that’s past due. When I finally do tell her the truth, she’ll retaliate. It’s not a question.
I gesture to Alayna to go ahead of me while I make arrangements with Jordan for our pickup. A last minute urge to flee seizes me. I could call Alayna back, take her somewhere else, enjoy the evening with her to myself. My mother will throw a fit and drink more than usual, or maybe exactly as much as usual, which is already too much. But I won’t care because I’ll be far away from all of it.
Our problems wouldn’t be solved, though. Simply postponed. Which is why I decide to continue with this horror of an evening. It will be worse because Alayna is with me, but I’m strangely comforted knowing she’ll be beside me through it all.
I step into the lobby after her and look at my watch. We’re a few minutes late. This shouldn’t be a problem. I called my mother earlier to let her know I was bringing Alayna, so the table should already be prepared for us. In the elevator up to our floor, I take her hand. I need to touch her even if it’s only in this simple capacity. It gives me strength. It reminds me my power lies in her.
The tension in my neck and shoulders tightens as we ascend. I realize that I don’t know what Alayna will do when she discovers Celia is here, if she’s here. Maybe it won’t be a big deal. But if it is…? Will Alayna be tight-lipped and cold? Will she lash out? What will I say when she questions me about it? The truth is safest, but what exactly is that?
More than once I lean toward Alayna with the intent of telling her that Celia may be here. Each time I stop myself. Finally, I start praying for the improbable. Don’t let her be here. Tomorrow, I’ll contact her. I’ll start making things right with her. Though I have no idea how.
Much too soon, long before I’m prepared, we are led by the host to my family’s table. Everyone’s there—Chandler, my parents, Mira and Adam, the Werners. Celia.
My stomach drops.
I know the moment Alayna spots her. She releases my hand and looks at me with pain-stricken features. “I thought you said this was family only,” she mumbles. And she bolts.
Well, that wasn’t a reaction I’d expected.
I nod to my family, catching my mother’s scowl as I make an apology. “She left something in the car. Excuse us a moment.” Then I follow after my date. While she may just need a moment to calm down, she has to know she can’t run from me. I will always come after her.
She takes the stairs. I pause at the door, trying to discover if she’s gone up or down. Her shoes echo on the concrete, but when I peer over the rail, I don’t see her below me. So I head to the roof.
At the top of the stairs, I open the heavy door and spot her rushing past the lounge area to the far edge of the space. There’s not many people here—a couple absorbed in each other on a couch, a small party conversing around an unlit fire pit. Not wanting to make a scene, I slow my pursuit. Alayna’s trapped in my sight. I can’t lose her.
When I’m close to her, I stop. Her back is to me, taking deep breaths. Her body rises and falls with each new lungful of air. I want to reach for her, but I’m tentative. Though I’m ready to move everything in my life to be with her, our whole arrangement is new to me. I’m making mistakes already, and I’m desperate not to make more.
I should have told her.
Now I have to say something, so I settle on the only thing that comes to mind. “The Werners are practically family.”
She doesn’t turn toward me. “Right. Uh-huh.”
“What, do you think I didn’t tell you on purpose?” Okay, I didn’t tell her on purpose, but not for the reasons she thinks. I’m in defense mode, and my phrasing tends to get manipulative when I am.
She chortles. “You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”
“Actually, I do.”
She spins toward me. “No, you don’t.”
I watch her as she backs away from me, stopping when she meets the wall. She should be angry at me. Aggressive, not retreating. There’s more to this than simply jealousy, but I don’t understand what.
And I want to understand. “Trust me when I tell you I do.”
“Hudson, you can’t say that when you don’t know what I want to say.” Her voice is strained, as if she’s holding back. “It’s not good. In fact, you need to leave me alone. Or I’m going to blame you for things. Things I’m probably overreacting about, and you’re going to be offended. And I’m going to lose you.”
The light goes on, and I feel like an idiot. She’s told me that she makes things bigger than they are, and here she is, afraid that that’s what she’s doing. She’s not, of course. I deserve her accusations, misguided as they may be. I deserve blame.
But, asshole that I am, I don’t tell her that. It will push her away, and I need—she needs—to be pulled in. So I do everything I can to make her see that her issues don’t scare me. Make her see that I’m not going anywhere. “You aren’t going to lose me.” I take a step toward her to prove it.